


An Exchange Between The Darkness and The Light

by CommanderArchangel



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Not really romantic, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), The Tragedy of Hope's Peak Academy, but i love this chara dynamic, reference to despair girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderArchangel/pseuds/CommanderArchangel
Summary: (How can you destroy worlds like they're made of plastic?)Easy question, Komaeda-kun! It's because, to me, they all are.





	An Exchange Between The Darkness and The Light

“You’ve heard about it, haven’t you?”

 

She snaps her head back, a whip of strawberry blonde locks flurrying his vision before wicked icy irises met his gaze. Despite their grim jubilance, they were always too cold to be human.

 

That was her, though. Enoshima Junko. The not-human-anymore girl who cloaked herself in paper dresses and threats crafted ever so cleverly from lace words and the entire world decided to fear her anyway.

 

“Heard of what?”

 

His skin is pallid and sickly, no different than he is usually; but he’s sure his own murky eyes blaze with the leaden tenacity they always held-- the false hope that she chastises him on believing in so adamantly and the real hope he knows she could never feel.

 

Two hopes, constantly clashing within himself.

 

(Perhaps if this were a little while ago, it would be all he could ever have wished for.)

 

“Eh? You’ve been so caught up with those schoolchildren you’ve basically been living under a rock?”

 

(Maybe not, Enoshima. Perhaps I’m avoiding that ugly prospect of the girl who bears a paper crown.)

 

“Either way, it’s hopelessly, despairingly amazing! World ending! All that great stuff…the Tragedy, they call it. Those old men haven't even seen the whole of it, all I have planned.” She rears her head to the sky-- viscous folds of ink sloshing among the great expanse of crimson. “I’ve irreversibly changed this world, Komaeda-kun...how glorious! Look! How glorious the works of despair!”

 

“Then, Enoshima,” his raspy voice rings out in the emptiness again, echoing off devastated buildings and debris at his feet. “You must believe despair can truly win.”

 

“Perhaps...but perhaps not!” Her laugh arises bubbly with her response, saccharine but dissonant. “That’s the beauty of it...despair, that is! I can win-- or I can lose! How unpredictable...for once, the world has laid out choices for me~!”

 

A paper world, then, too. She commands a paper world with paper armies that demolish cities at will.

 

“What are you thinking, Komaeda-kun?” The name is sickly sweet rolling off her tongue, disgustingly easy from cherry lips (who he’s sure has pronounced worse expletives than some servant’s worthless name).

 

“Don’t waste such important breath on that word, Enoshima.”

 

(He’s joking, of course. Her breath is but a husk of what she claims to be. Paper.)

 

“Don’t fucking say my name either, then! If all your words are just trash like you claim…” He bowed his head and let his shame resonate with the clanking chain links hanging from his neck.

 

(You have me in the palm of your hand.)

 

(It’s funny, one of them is already connected to my wrist.)

 

She giggles, a vile sound.

 

“I hate you,” weary lungs heaved out, spiteful but weak.

 

“Lovely, lovely Komaeda-kun…I hate you, too! It's just you and me...jeez, it's almost like we're on a date!” She takes a shard of cement in her hand and skips it across the scarlet river, as if despite all the destruction she is still only a schoolgirl who enjoys things like pebbles unfolding ripples over water, or the curious phenomenon of falling asleep beneath autumn leaves, deceptively easy. 

 

He scowls, but follows her nonetheless over the landscape massacred, devoid of willpower or any inferno of hope he knew once bloomed in men's chests through seas of bloodshed.

 

She skips, and the sound of her heels against the frozen asphalt is too piercing among the silence. 

 

(My, my, Enoshima. Do you really think you have won?) 

 

(If there is one thing I entrust myself to besides the unending prevalence of hope...

 

...it will be your downfall.)

**Author's Note:**

> first work woot woot ;0 ;0 ;0
> 
> Random drabbles, oop. i need to start using this AO3 account lol


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